


my own stuff

by deaddoh



Category: None - Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2019-07-04 11:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15840021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deaddoh/pseuds/deaddoh
Summary: simply my own writing.





	1. loving someone

"Do you not love me?"

 

There.

 

The horrible accusation of someone not loving the one they're suppose to.

 

"I do! I ju-"

 

The plea falls on deaf ears.

 

"There's not an 'I just' here! There's not suppose to be!"

 

They fall silent. Words have always meant a lot. Now they're the grenades with the pins pulled out.

 

"Why accuse me?"

 

"Why lie to me?"

 

There.

 

"Do you know what I do for you?"

 

"Do you know what I have to go through?"

 

"Oh! So you're suddenly the victim here?!"

 

"Yes. Yes I _fuckin_ ' am!"

 

"What makes yo the victem and not th both of us?"

 

"Because, because..."

 

 

 

~~Silence.~~

~~A floorboard creaks.~~

~~Faraway footsteps.~~

~~A ripped paper.~~

~~A slammed door.~~

~~Silence.~~


	2. Little Wanderer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song is 'Little Wanderer' from Death Cab for Cutie (you should probably listen to the song)

**_You sent a photo out your window of Tokyo. Told me you were doing fine. You said the cherry blossoms were blooming._ ** ****_  
_   
He smiles as he brushes his fingers over the old print out of the cherry blossom covered windowsill. The paper old and rough.   
  
****

**_You’re my wanderer, little wanderer. Off across the sea. You’re my wanderer, little wanderer. Won’t you wander back to me?_ ** ****_  
_   
He shuffles through the small box, pushing the memories away, looking for something else.   
  
****

**_Always fall asleep when you’re waking. I count the hours on my hands. Doing the math to the time zone you’re at. Is an unseen part of the plan._ ** ****_  
_   
He pauses. An overly loved and folded piece of paper. Full of time zones and math. Addition and subtraction cover the page. He smiles and moves on. Feeling his resolve slowly crumble.   
  
****

**_You sent a photo out your window of Paris. Of what you wish that I could see._ ** ****_  
_   
The Eiffel Tower stands tall. It’s point just at the top of the windowsill. The neighborhood below bustling and full of life.    
  
****

**_And I hope your absence makes us grow fonder. I hope we always feel the same. When our eyes meet past security, we embrace in the baggage claim._ ** ****_  
_   
His hands shake, clutching the old keychain she gave him. The surface scratched and chipped, the picture of the Eiffel Tower from her window.   
  
****

**_You’re my wanderer, little wanderer. Off across the sea. You’re my wanderer, little wanderer. Won’t you wander back to me._ ** ****_  
_   
He grips the keychain. Finally feeling her    
absence crash down, he cries. Ugly and loud, he misses her with all his heart.   
  
****

**_You’re my wanderer, little wanderer. How I wish that you could see. You’re my wanderer, little wanderer. How I need you back with me._ ** ****_  
_   
  
He kneels. Gently placing his hand on the headstone.    
  
  
  
  
_ My little wanderer. _


	3. colors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> poem about... something

i've never felt so far away.   
here, i sit in a room of near silence.  
tired, aching sounds echo here.  
beneath a window of color, i sit.  
here, i'll wait in silence.  
for the day, when the colors come crashing down.


	4. poetry pt I

colors 

red , purple, blue, yellow

the glass shivers

 

the room quiet, creaking with the pews

groaning with the floor

he sits, under the rainbow light

 

colors of God cast over him with no meaning

the words in the faded Bibles, telling an uninteresting story

 

the colors stand

owning their shape in the widow

portraying God on the cross

 

sunny 

the colors shine 

the images they show, meaningless


	5. fish expectations

“It’s... kinda ugly.” A girl says to her brother. Referring to the fish they just bought.

The brother nods, leaning in. “Yeah, it kinda is.”

The fish swims around in its new tank, inspecting. It’s an orange Beta fish, with a slightly misshapen head.

”You still like it right?” The brother asks, turning is head to look at his sister.

She nods, “Of course! It’s still a cool fish with a cool color. It’s the head that’s a little weird.”

The brother steps back from the tank, “That’s good. Hopefully it likes it’s new home.”

The fish looks a bit out of place, the tank looking a little too big for the one fish.

”Should we get another fish?” The sister asks, opening the lid and sprinkling in a small pinch of food.

The brother shakes his head, “Nah. Beta’s are really territorial.”

The girl hums, closing the lid and watching the fish gulp up the food pellets.


	6. foul

im still knocked up on the hate you gave me. 

im still high from the emotions that poured from you. 

im still addicted to the poison you spit at me, lies that taste sweet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not sure where this came from.


	7. poetry part II

Nothing hurts more than someone you know

yelling.

At you.

You, who's done nothing wrong.

 

Nothing hurts more than having to write a letter.

A letter of why.

Why you need space.

Why they're toxic.

 

Nothing hurts more than wondering.

Wondering if you're the problem.

But.

Your 'problem'.

Is something you _can't_ control.


	8. least

to say the least

"at least i got it done"

 

what does that mean?

"at least he's gone now"

 

is it the bare minimum?

"at least i passed"

 

is it the best you can do?

"at least it's neat"

 

does it always involve material things?

"at least she gave a gift"

 

when is it intangible?

"at least he was loved"

 

when does "at least" end?


	9. warped

the world twisted him up into an evil man.

someone who didn't hold doors open for other.

someone who let the child's balloon float into the sky.

someone who doesn't care.

**Author's Note:**

> these pieces are my own from my phone.


End file.
